


Head Canon

by rameau



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, Merlin_Forever Challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rameau/pseuds/rameau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is or will a series of drabbles and ficlets inspired by the 2013 Merlin rewatch. Each chapter should correspond to a single episode on the show. There will be myriads of characters and pairings. The rating and the tags may change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Merlin 1x01 The Dragon's Call — Or: When Arthur Met His Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to bookjunkie1975 for the beta.

It was one of those days. It was a bit chilly out of the sun, just enough so that Arthur felt like doing something to keep himself warm instead of going back into the castle to fetch a warm vest like a little boy he wasn’t. He _so_ wasn’t. 

Of course the useless boy, Morris, could be relied upon to provide extra entertainment for his morning. Not that Arthur wanted to humiliate the boy but he made it easy.

“Where’s the target?”

“There, Sire.”

“It’s to the sun.”

“It’s not that bright.”

“A bit like you then.” 

Okay, maybe Arthur wanted to humiliate the boy, but honestly, Morris should have known better. They’d done this a dozen times before and he _never_ learnt. How hard could it be to properly set a target? A child could do it! Arthur was doing him a favour, really. He turned the knife in his hand and threw it. And he threw another. His friends helpfully lent him theirs, and Arthur threw them too. 

Despite what he’d say to his friends later that day, Arthur wasn’t aiming at the boy. His father hadn’t just taught him _how_ to kill, he’d taught him _when_ to kill. If Arthur were to ever succeed his father to the throne, he’d need to master the second lesson, and Arthur wanted to. More than the throne, Arthur wanted to please his father, and throwing knives not knowing where they’d land would not please the King. 

“Hey.”

Arthur turned. A tall, scrawny thing with huge ears and laughing eyes told him he’d had his fun. When the oddly shaped coat-rack called him _his friend,_ Arthur’s eyes landed on on the plushy pink lips, and his smile froze. 

“Do I know you?” 

“I’m Merlin.”

“So, I don’t know you.”

“No.”

“Yet you call me friend.”

The nerve on the boy! Arthur would enjoy setting him right. He was relishing the feeling when the words _”I’d never have a friend who could be such an arse”_ dropped from the boy’s, Merlin’s, mouth. Such a shame. Merlin wasn’t any better than Morris in his own special kind of idiocy, and Arthur would do him the same favour he’d do for anyone. He’d stop them before they’d have the chance to really hurt themselves. Arthur at least knew when to pull his punches. Not all noblemen were as considerate towards their inferiors. 

It was as effortless as ever to lure the boy to swing his arm and for Arthur to lock it behind his back.

“Who do you think you are? The King?”

“No. I’m his son, Arthur.” 

Arthur didn’t take any pleasure in pushing the boy to the ground and calling the guards to take him. It was better this way. Really. A night in the dungeons, maybe a week, would save the boy from getting himself killed. With that thought, Arthur put the boy out of his mind.

* * *

                                                                                                  

 

At least he tried to, until the next day when he happened to glance out of the castle window and into the marketplace. Arthur knew, he just knew, that the slim figure chained to the pillory was Merlin. Why did he remember that name?

Arthur dragged his eyes away from the boy’s arse and walked away from the window. His father wanted him to dine with Lady Helen and Arthur didn’t feel inclined to oblige.

* * *

                                                                                                    

 

“Don’t run away!”

Of course avoiding one problem let him stumble on another. Arthur couldn’t let the boy walk away without a quick poke. He laughed because he didn’t want anyone to discern just how much he wanted to hear Merlin’s comeback. It’d really been too long since anyone had dared to show him proper insolence and Arthur would enjoy hearing it from this boy as long as he possibly could, because they always changed. Every stranger learnt to recognise him in the streets and every servant’s or labourer’s son he’d known since childhood had grown up to understand what the words _prince_ and _heir to the throne_ really meant. 

Arthur would never admit it to anyone, but sometimes he lay awake in his bed mourning not just for the mother he’d never known but everyone who no longer saw him for him. They were all blinded by his father’s title and authority.

“Look, I’ve told you you’re an arse, I just didn’t realise you were a royal one.” 

That was a good one, predictable, but more than most had managed. Then Merlin had to go and ruin it with asking if his men would have to protect him. As if Arthur needed help whipping anyone let alone a farmer’s son who’d never held anything heavier than a hoe. 

Arthur laughed: “I could take you apart with one blow.”

“I could take you apart with less than that.” Merlin’s expression oozed improbable confidence.

“Are you sure?”

Arthur couldn’t believe his eyes. The boy, Merlin, was going to do it. He was going to fight. This just told Arthur he’d been right in sending Merlin to jail the previous day, to keep him safe. He was going to get himself killed sooner rather than later. The poor boy didn’t have a clue what he was getting himself into. Arthur threw him a flail and grabbed one for himself too. Maybe there was still a chance he could dissuade Merlin from breaking his own skull, Arthur thought as he warmed up by swinging the flail around his head.

“I’ll warn you, I’ve been trained to kill since birth.”

Merlin didn’t look nearly as impressed as he should’ve done. “And how long have you been training to be a prat?” 

If show of skill wouldn’t do it, maybe it was time for Arthur to demand the respect his station allowed him. “You can’t address me like that.” 

“Sorry. How long have you been training to be a prat, My Lord.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold. Merlin shouldn’t have done that. Arthur didn’t want to hear Merlin call him _My Lord,_ Arthur didn’t want Merlin to call him Sire or any other honorary byname. Not until just then, did Arthur realise how much he wanted to hear his name fall from those smiling lips.

Arthur was going to make Merlin pay for that discovery. He was going to hurt the boy and he was going to draw blood. Nothing too serious of course, but he was going to give Merlin a reminder of how to speak to his betters. 

Through the streets and into the marketplace Arthur followed Merlin. He watched the boy lose his flail and stumble. He took a swing and another, but when Merlin was flat on his back and helpless to defend himself, Arthur spent a moment choosing where to leave the bruise. Normally he’d aim for the torso, but as skinny as the boy was, Arthur was afraid he’d do irreparable harm to him. Merlin’s thighs looked fleshy enough to take the hit.

“You’re in trouble now,” Arthur said and swung his flail. It was caught in a pair of sickles. _How did that happen?_

Merlin fled deeper into the market place and Arthur followed. He stumbled on a box and bellowed like a child he wasn’t. Twenty was almost of age—where did that rope come from? Arthur pushed himself back up again and watched Merlin grab his flail. Suddenly the boy was chasing him and demanding him to give up. Arthur stumbled for the third time and fell on his back. 

_If only there hadn’t been a flail involved…_ And the town’s people as an audience. Arthur needed to turn the situation around before his father would hear of this. When Merlin became distracted Arthur grabbed the nearest weapon he could reach, a broom, and knocked the boy down. Not too hard, but not gently either. 

When the guards hauled Merlin up and back to his feet, Arthur came to his senses and told them to let him go. “He may be an idiot, but he’s a brave one,” he said by way of an explanation to the guards. And to the floundering boy, not quite a man yet despite being taller than Arthur, he said:

“There’s something about you, Merlin. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Arthur didn’t realise until later how honest he’d been and for the first time that day. What was it about Merlin that made Arthur want to speak only the simple truths?

* * *

                                                                                                    

 

On the third night since first meeting Merlin, Arthur’s eyes were already accustomed to searching him from the crowd. Talking to his friends, Arthur purposefully kept his back turned to the doors so as not to keep staring at everyone and anyone who walked in. 

It only took the glazed look in his friends’ eyes and a sharp intake of breath to tell Arthur that Morgana had arrived. He turned to look. As outrageous as her dress was, Arthur’s eyes didn’t fall on the girl he should call his sister. His gaze brushed upon the boy and the dazed look Merlin wore. Arthur should’ve guessed. He muttered a small prayer to his god and went to fulfil his brotherly duty as Morgana’s companion. 

Arthur struggled to keep the boredom from his face. Morgana’s expression told him he hadn’t succeeded. They shared a smile and prepared to pretend to enjoy the terrible yodelling their father seemed to love so much. Arthur fully expected to fall asleep where he sat and he could only hope he didn’t snore too loudly—his father didn’t like that—he just didn’t expect to fall asleep so swiftly. The song had barely begun before Arthur felt the dreams tug him under like covering him with a heavy cloak. 

Arthur jolted awake and pushed himself up through the cobwebs— _cobwebs?_ His mind still sluggish from the sleep registered the old woman— _what happened to Lady Helen?_ —grabbing a knife and hurling it at him. Arthur knew he should move, he should evade the missile before it buried itself into his chest, but he couldn’t. Arthur was frozen where he stood, utterly helpless, until he felt something—someone—grab him by the shoulders and pull him aside. 

_Merlin. Again._

Merlin had saved his life. 

After all Arthur had done to him—thrown him in jail, sent him to the stocks, threatened to maul him, tried to maul him—Merlin had still chosen to pull Arthur away from a very sharp blade. Choices were something Arthur was beginning to believe in. The older he grew up to be, the fewer he had and none pleasant as of late. But Merlin was free to choose and he’d chosen to save his tormentor.

Arthur, not the Prince of Camelot but Arthur, stared in awe at the commoner when the words _“you shall be Prince Arthur’s manservant”_ pierced his consciousness.

“Father!” Arthur poured all his disbelief and reluctance into that one word. His father couldn’t do this to him. His father couldn’t bind him so closely to this insufferable, insubordinate mystery of a boy who plagued Arthur’s thoughts. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t. Arthur had to change his father’s mind. He couldn’t bear to imagine what his life would become if he didn’t.


	2. Merlin 1x02 Valiant — Or: Arthur Never Was Good with Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to bookjunkie1975 for the beta.

* * *

_How does someone go from saying the absolute worst thing to saying the exact right word to defuse a stressful situation?_

Arthur had enjoyed beating Merlin about with the flail the previous day. He’d been suitably impressed with the boy’s ability to stay upright for as long as he had, but today, when the tournament started, things had changed. It wasn’t as if Arthur didn’t feel his father’s expectations weighing him down without _Mer_ lin reminding him about his nerves while fumbling with the armour fastenings. Then, eons later and after the battle, Merlin had said just one word and made everything _better._

How was that possible?

* * *

_Creep._

Arthur heard Merlin’s voice in his head as he watched Morgana flirt with Valiant. 

She had better taste than that, surely.

Arthur wasn’t jealous in the slightest, _he wasn’t_ , but he wanted—no, needed—Morgana to be her superior self and make the world fall back on its rightful axis. If Morgana could bat down a hopeful suitor with just one look, then maybe Arthur wouldn’t fold under the weight of sharp steel and an auspicious blow. 

This night couldn’t end soon enough.

* * *

The boy was a puzzle. 

He didn’t have a grasp of proper etiquette and he gaily addressed Arthur in any damn way he pleased, but he endured the flail better than any other untrained servant and apparently worked miracles. Merlin had singlehandedly fixed Arthur’s armour overnight. 

“You did all this on your own.”

“Yes, Sire.”

If Arthur hadn’t known better, he’d have said it was magic. 

Merlin?

Magic?

The idea was ludicrous. The King had merely stumbled on and saddled Arthur with an exceptionally assiduous servant. It was maddening. Arthur decided to further test Merlin’s developing service skills.

“Now, let’s see if you can get me into it without forgetting anything.”

Arthur hoped his next opponent would make a nice big dent in his armour just to see if Merlin could repeat his trick. He might even make an extra mess in his chambers tonight. To save Merlin from idleness.

* * *

What did Uther see in these vagrant swords for hire? Himself? Or the son he wished he’d had? Arthur couldn’t decide which. Either way, the idea of practicing and fighting alongside Valiant in the guard filled Arthur with distaste.

Of course, as soon as Arthur managed to banish the foul aftertaste of the dinner with his father and actually eat something, Merlin came rushing in and set a severed snake head on the table. 

The snake didn’t disturb him as much as Merlin’s ridiculous story. Arthur couldn’t decide which was more absurd: that Valiant—or anyone—would use magic in Camelot or that Merlin had figured it out and cut the snake’s head off. 

_Ludicrous._

Arthur didn’t like repeating himself but it seemed to be happening more and more around Merlin. 

“If you fight Valiant in the final, he’ll use the shield. It’s the only way he can beat you.”

It warmed Arthur’s heart to know Merlin believed in him, that he could best Valiant. As long as no one cheated. Merlin was almost frantic in his efforts to convince Arthur of Valiant’s duplicity, so much so that he hadn’t even realised how sincere he’d been. Arthur, however, noticed. If Merlin was sincere about his belief in Arthur’s abilities in the tournament, maybe he was sincere about the magical shield too. 

“I know I’m just a servant and my word doesn’t count for anything. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

It counted. Merlin counted. 

“I want you to swear to me what you’re telling me is true.” Merlin never looked away from Arthur.

“I swear it’s true.”

“Then I believe you.”

God save him. Arthur was going to tell his father.

* * *

Calm and confident, Arthur waited. He had the truth on his side. His father couldn’t ignore the truth. 

“Why have you summoned the court?” Uther strode into the throne room. 

“I believe Knight Valiant is using a magic shield to cheat in the tournament,” Arthur said. He felt everyone’s eyes on him and watched Valiant dance the expected steps of denial. Arthur enjoyed the knight’s distressed expression when he mentioned Sir Ewan’s name. Soon it would be all over. 

Or not. Something was wrong. Merlin was aside, whispering with Gaius.

“Where’s Ewan?” 

“He’s dead.” Merlin’s simple words sealed Arthur’s fate. 

A choice. That’s all he had now. A choice between the truth and a lie, between the kind of man he was and the kind of king he hoped to be. A choice between going against his father and letting Valiant get away with murder. 

Arthur remembered the blade hurling towards him. Arthur remembered Gaius asking for mercy to a near orphan. Arthur remembered the single-minded determination of someone trying to convince him of the unthinkable. 

“I’m afraid the witness is dead.” 

“So, you have no proof to support these allegations. Have you seen Valiant using magic?” Uther demanded. 

Arthur had a choice to believe in someone who believed in him.

“No. But my servant fought—“

Arthur held his head high and endured his father’s conceit. The King would not believe a mere servant. It didn’t matter that the servant had saved his son’s life, it only mattered that he dared to speak against his betters, against a knight. Even an errant one. 

Merlin, the poor sod, didn’t help his cause. Arthur should have let him rot in jail when he had the chance. Speaking of things he should have seen coming, Arthur should have guessed that Valiant would use this opportunity to imply cowardice. 

The man was a snake and his jabs couldn’t reach Arthur’s soft spots, but that his father, that Uther would believe his son a coward rather than a stranger a cheat, that hurt. 

Arthur didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to drink too much, sing too loud, and be a merry menace with his friends on the streets of Camelot. He wanted to for once get the last word from Morgana, and he wanted his father to tell him he was proud of Arthur and had always been. Arthur wanted to someday say those same words to his own son. He wanted Camelot to be a happier place under his rule. Arthur wanted things he hadn’t even thought of yet, but most of all, Arthur wanted another choice. 

Arthur sheathed his sword and lied: “Please accept my apology.”

He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t. He could. Not.

Arthur glanced at his father and walked away.

* * *

If Arthur had ever doubted the existence of Merlin’s survival instinct, this was proof positive against it. Why would anyone— _anyone_ —let alone someone whose fault the prince’s impending doom was follow Arthur back to his rooms?

“I believed you. I trusted you, and you made me look—a complete fool.”

“I know it didn’t go exactly to plan.” 

Was the boy serious? Arthur lost it. His seams burst and the bile flowed out of him: “Didn’t go to plan. My father and the entire court think I’m a coward. You humiliated me!”

 _You?_ That might have been a step too far. It wasn’t Merlin’s fault Ewan died and couldn’t testify. It wasn’t Merlin’s fault Uther favoured a strange knight over a servant, over his own son. It wasn’t Merlin’s fault Arthur hadn’t thought up a secondary plan. It wasn’t Merlin’s fault Arthur wasn’t ready to challenge the court customs. 

Arthur turned his back to Merlin; he didn’t want the boy see his shame.

“We can still expose Valiant.” Why would Merlin not let it go? Didn’t he see Arthur needed to be alone. 

“I no longer require your services.”

“You’re sacking me?” He sounded so young, so hurt. Had Arthur ever been as young as that? As naive and innocent?

“I need a servant I can trust.”

“You can trust me.” _Why do you think I’m yelling you now?_ Arthur thought. He didn’t want that reminder of a promise, of something that might have been. Arthur needed time alone to say—to say—Arthur needed to be alone.

“And look where it got me this time. Get out of my sight!”

When Merlin left, it was the loneliest Arthur had ever felt.

* * *

Warming his sore muscles in front of the fire, Arthur heard the slow steps approaching. Merlin. Did he ever do what was told? 

“Don’t fight Valiant in the final tomorrow. He’ll use the shield against you.”

Apparently he also liked stating the obvious. 

“I know.”

When Merlin told him—Merlin didn’t ask or beg—to withdraw, Arthur wanted to smile. The boy still wanted to save Arthur’s life. They didn’t even like each other but Merlin wanted to keep him around anyway. The faint curl of lips soon disappeared under the annoyance and jealousy of all the choices Merlin had. All the freedom Arthur had never known. Merlin didn’t understand the responsibility Arthur felt, or how he feared he wouldn’t be able to embody everything a leader of Camelot was expected to manifest. 

Merlin gave his trust so freely that he didn’t comprehend people who didn’t. He didn’t realise that matters of life and death were different. That to lead, the trust had to be earned. 

“Valiant will kill you. If you fight, you die.”

“Then I die.” The simple, elegant truth fell from Arthur’s lips.

“How can you go out there and fight like that?”

“Because I have to. It’s my duty.” _It’s the only choice I can make._

* * *

The morning came. The sun was up. The castle and the town below were near silent. Arthur didn’t know what he was looking for in the arena, but whatever it was eluded him. The Pendragon crest remained as silent as it been his whole life.

He’d have to face this alone then. 

Just like any other man, Arthur would face death alone.

* * *

                                                                                                      
Arthur tried not to think about the boy fussing with his armour. He tried not to think about his father’s words about making him proud from days before. He tried to focus on something he could do to stave off his final breath when Morgana walked in. She sent Morris away and went through the fastenings. 

Whatever she’d come for wasn’t this. She never held her tongue when sharp words would do and she never hid from the inconvenient. She should have been mocking him, spurring him on. 

No. This was something else. Something worse.

“Arthur. Be careful.”

She knew. 

Arthur faked a smile and nodded. It was better to pretend. “See you at the feast.”

* * *

Morgana’s shout, his father’s nod of acknowledgement, Merlin’s grinning face, it all was buried under the flood of relief coursing through him. He lived. He _lived._

* * *

The feeling hadn’t receded by the time the feast began. Normally, Arthur hated these kinds of events, but not today. He was happy to greet Morgana and escort her to the table. He was even happy to be as courteous as he could be. 

“Has your father apologised yet for not believing you?” she asked.

Sometimes Arthur thought Morgana had as huge a blind spot for his father as Uther had for her. 

“He’ll never apologise,” Arthur said. And because he couldn’t help himself, he added: “I hope you’re not too disappointed Valiant’s not escorting you.” 

Politeness could only last so long between them. As soon as Morgana had dismissed Valiant as champion material she claimed the honour of winning the tournament for herself. All those fighting lessons had failed to teach her that a sword was only as good as the hand that wielded it. Worse than claiming the win was that she implied Arthur had needed saving in any shape or form from anything.

What a ridiculous idea.

There was that word again. Where was Merlin? He needed to hear this. Arthur found him loitering by one of the tables, but when Arthur explained what Morgana had said the boy looked less than amused. Why would he—that’s right. Arthur hadn’t had the chance to say this yet:

“I wanted to say I made a mistake. It was unfair to sack you.”

Apologising wasn’t half as painful as Arthur had imagined it to be. He wondered what his father’s excuse for never doing it was. And Merlin, bless him, had the decency to pretend like the Prince of Camelot hadn’t just humbled himself for him. No, the truly awkward part was only coming up. Rejection, even theoretical, wasn’t something Arthur had learned to handle well.

“I can’t really be seen buying drinks for my servant.”

“Your servant? You sacked me.”

“Now I’m rehiring you.” Arthur didn’t let himself stop to admire Merlin’s happy smile, so he fell back on their routine and started listing all the duties he’d been afraid Merlin would never take care of again. It was better than outright blurting out _I missed you_ or something equally ludicrous. 

There was that word again.


	3. Merlin 1x03 The Mark of Nimueh — Or: Arthur's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part of my head canon has been true since the first time I saw this episode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to bookjunkie1975 for the beta.

* * *

“What can I do? I can’t turn a blind eye.”

* * *

“I know Gwen, she’s my maid servant, not an enchantress.”

As Arthur listened to Morgana pleading for Gwen’s life, he remembered the quick cut of a purple flower and Merlin’s matter of fact explanation: _Gwen gave it to me._

He remembered the lurch of his heart when Tom the blacksmith told him only Gwen had seen him recover from the illness. He remembered the mix of guilt and glee he felt in arresting Gwen. 

“Have you ever seen an enchantress? Believe me they bear no sign, no mark. There’s no sense of evil in the eye.” His father, ever the unbending.

Morgana didn’t need to tell him her maid was innocent; Arthur had known it all along. 

“I’ve seen the way the girl works. Her fingers are worn, her nails are broken. If she were a sorceress why would she do this?” 

He studiously ignored the memory of a half hidden book on Merlin’s floor, just as he’d ignored the soft hands and irreverent remarks. That is to say, Arthur pretended not to notice because, when it came to Merlin, he noticed too much. 

“Why would she kneel on a cold stone floor morning after morning when she could make these things happen with a snap of her fingers like an idle king?”

Arthur noticed how Merlin acted without thinking, how he refused let rank cow his heart or tongue.

 _“I could take you apart with less than that.”_

“She’s right, Father. You hear the word magic and you no longer listen.”

Arthur noticed how Merlin’s first impulse was to trust. 

_“I know I’m just a servant and my word doesn’t count for anything. I wouldn’t lie to you.”_

“—but to save her dying father. That doesn’t make her guilty of creating a plague. One is the act of kindness, of love. The other of evil. I don’t believe evil is in this girls heart.”

Arthur appealed to his father, knowing he wasn’t just speaking for a girl who made Morgana smile, even on the darkest day. 

_“You can trust me.”_

“I know. Witchcraft is an evil, Father, so is injustice. Yes, I am yet to be king and I don’t know what kind of king I’ll be, but I do have a sense of the kind of Camelot I wish to live in.“ 

Arthur had a debt to repay. A life to save.

“—It would be one where the punishment fits the crime.”

* * *

Apparently it wasn’t enough that images of Merlin burning haunted him. Someone wanted to make them real.

“Gwen is not the sorcerer, I am.”

Arthur would never cease to marvel at the boy’s lack of self-preservation. Watching that declaration was almost painful in its sweetness. A prince or a servant girl, it didn’t matter. Merlin would save them all and he’d sacrifice himself.

“Arrest him.”

“Father, please. I cannot allow this. This is madness. There’s no way _Mer_ lin is a sorcerer.” 

Damn the boy. Arthur struggled to find an explanation. 

“He’s in love.” 

Maybe his jealousy was good for something after all. “With Gwen.”

“But I’m not in love with her.”

“It’s all right, you can admit it.” Arthur slid his arm over Merlin’s shoulders, trying to hold the boy still. Didn’t he realise just how close to burning he was? And unlike with Gwen, the truth would not save him. 

“Merlin is a wonder, but the wonder is that he’s such an idiot. There’s no way he’s a sorcerer.” He could not be, not while Uther was yet king.

* * *

Failure was something Arthur would never learn to accept. He’d been listening to another meaningless report of fruitless searches, when a guard had come looking for him. His father wanted to speak to him, and Arthur didn’t have any answers to give. 

“Have you found anything more?”

“I’ve tried. I can keep looking.”

“People are dying, we can’t delay any longer. We must kill the witch. Bring the execution forward to tonight.”

* * *

Arthur had been expecting someone to approach him, but he was still mildly surprised to see Morgana in his rooms. As soon as she opened her mouth, it all became clear. 

Poor Merlin indeed. Within hours Arthur’s hapless servant had managed to lure in the King’s ward and work his magic on her. Well, not literally. 

“To offer to give up his life to save Gwen’s. I certainly can’t imagine any man loving me so much.”

“No. I certainly can’t imagine that either.” She deserved it though. The one good thing about the King’s devotion to Morgana was that he’d probably make sure she’d get it. 

“It’s because you’re not like Merlin; he’s a lover.”

How did this discussion unravel so quickly? Arthur wished Morgana would stop taunting him and say what she wanted from him.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“I want you to kill an Afanc,” Morgana said.

“What’s an Afanc?”

“Merlin says it’s a magical clay beast in the water supply and that its causing the illness.”

“Merlin says?” 

Of course. Merlin was the authority on all things magical. He’d been right about Valiant’s shield, and he most likely would have tried to beat the knight himself if he could have. Maybe he had. Merlin must have found a way to call out the snakes to show them to everyone. That was another debt Arthur owed the boy. 

“He and Gaius saw it.”

“Fine, I’ll do it. I’ve tried everything else except slaying a magical beast.” 

“There’s a first time for everything.” Morgana smiled, but her relief was evident. Gwen was the closest thing to a friend she had in this castle.

* * *

“You better be right about this Merlin,” Arthur said as they descended into the caves. Not three steps later they heard the noise. Now, all he needed to do was to get rid of the witnesses. Merlin was stupid enough expose himself if given the chance.

“Father will slam us both in chains if he’d knew I’d endangered you,” Arthur said to Morgana.

“Good thing he doesn’t know about it then,” she promptly replied.

“I’m telling you, Morgana, turn back. You could get hurt.” 

“So could you—if you don’t get out of my way.” 

Arthur hadn’t really expected her to back down, but he wished this had been the one time she wasn’t her stubborn self. And Merlin had the audacity to look impressed. The idiot simply enjoyed seeing anyone make Arthur look like a fool. 

As soon as Arthur said the words “spread out” he knew he’d made a mistake. He was supposed to be fighting a magical beast hiding in the shadows, how on earth would he defeat it with a sword? 

He didn’t have to ponder over it for long. The creature snuck up to him and the others rushed back. It wasn’t afraid of the blade but stayed away from the fire. Now, if only Merlin would hurry up and do what he was planning to do…

“Arthur, use the torch.”

Finally. Arthur held out his torch and pretended not to hear Merlin mumbling whatever language he used for the spell. A breeze blew through the caves, grabbed the torch’s flame, and engulfed the Afanc. 

It was done. 

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked and waited for both Morgana and Merlin to nod. “Go, tell Gaius. I’ll watch over the fire until it dies. I want to make sure it doesn’t come back.”

“It won’t,” Merlin said.

“Even still. Go, and take Morgana with you. The sooner my Father learns of this the sooner Gwen is released.” 

Arthur needed a moment to himself, and he needed to adjust to what was quickly becoming the new normal: Hiding an inept sorcerer living in the castle from his father.


	4. Merlin 1x04 The Poisoned Chalice — Or: Arthur Would Be Deaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur continues his smart ways and Morgana develops a voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to bookjunkie1975 for the beta.

Arthur was used to finding the silver lining of every dark cloud that he came across. What he wasn’t used to was associating those silver linings with Merlin. Yet, it seemed to happen more often when he was around. Like watching Merlin throw around one of Arthur’s more festive coats, which also happened to reek of rotting food. 

“When was the last time these were cleaned?” 

“Last year sometime, before the feast of Beltane.” 

Arthur was going to enjoy introducing Merlin to Camelot’s magnificent feasts. He’d even make sure there was a decent food fight at the end of it, just for Merlin. 

“—You’ll be there to make sure my cup doesn’t run dry. If I have to sit through Bayard’s boring speeches, I don’t see why you should get out of it.” And because every heartfelt truth from Arthur had to be cushioned with something unpleasant, Arthur threw in a reminder of polishing the buttons, which in turn reminded him—

“Do you want to see what you’ll be wearing tonight?” 

That should not have sounded as wrong as it did. Luckily, Merlin the idiot, didn’t notice, and Arthur managed to further distract him with the official ceremonial robes for Camelot’s servants. Everyone else had foregone them long ago but Merlin was new and deserved to live through the experience. It would help him to bond him with the rest of the servants.

* * *

Wine. Arthur needed wine, but of course Bayard had to make it into a special ceremony. No one cared what cup he used to drink himself silly, but Bayard and his niceties. Arthur accepted the goblet—much like any other he’d held before—and waited for it to be filled. Of course Merlin wasn’t there to oversee his only task for the evening. Gods, he was thirsty. 

Now his own Father was conspiring against Arthur. All he wanted was a little sip. Well, that was a lie, but a sip would be a good start. Finally, they were raising their cups for a toast and—

“Stop! It’s poisoned. Don’t drink it.” 

_Mer_ lin. Why should tonight be different from any other night since the boy had arrived to Camelot? 

“Merlin. What are you doing?” Please, let the boy keep his mouth shut or only to open it for the sincerest apology ever uttered. Arthur was getting tired playing the knight in shining armour to his servant. Was it too much to ask to save a pretty girl every once in a while? 

“Bayard laced Arthur’s goblet with poison.”

No pretty girls for Arthur then. Merlin needed to get out of the hall and he had to leave immediately.

“I’ll handle this.” Arthur went to grab his goblet back. “Merlin, you idiot. You’ve been to the slow gin again?”

“Unless you want to be strung up you’ll tell me why you think it’s poisoned. Now.”

Damn. Too late. Arthur’s father was using that tone. Again. Arthur watched the boy dig himself into a deeper hole with the help of the Mercian king.

“He’ll drink it.” Uther’s words seized the room.

“But if it is poisoned, he’ll die.” Arthur’s mind was racing. He had to do something. He couldn’t let Merlin die. “Merlin, apologise. This is a mistake. I’ll drink it.” 

Arthur made a grab at the blasted cup that had found its way back into Merlin’s hands, wanting to stop—wanting to stop whatever it was Merlin knew would happen. He had an unfortunate habit of being right about these things.

“—It’s all right,” the boy said.

_It’s not all right._

Arthur couldn’t stop it. There were too many blades drawn for this to end well if he tried, but he couldn’t just watch it either. Maybe Merlin was wrong and the there wasn’t any poison. Bayard would demand his compensation but Arthur would figure out a way to get Merlin out of it. Somehow. 

For a few seconds it looked like Arthur would have until morning after all. Then Merlin collapsed. Arthur fell onto his knees by Merlin’s side to make sure the idiot wasn’t faking it. He wasn’t. _Idiot_. 

Letting someone else take charge was too easy. Arthur contented himself with carrying the boy to the other side of the castle while Gaius mumbled something about ancient herbs and Gwen tried not to sob the whole way to Gaius’ chambers. 

“Is he going to be all right?”

That was the third time Merlin had saved Arthur’s life and once all the lives in Camelot, keeping one measly secret didn’t quite balance the scales. 

As Gaius searched for the poison’s origin, Arthur held the goblet remembering his lips on its rim. So close. That sip that had been about to slake his thirst forever had been so close. Without Merlin and his choice to save him once again, it would be Arthur lying in bed shivering and burning up at the same time. 

The Morteaus flower and a Cockatrice. There was enough challenge for a dozen knights and their quests for glory. 

“Sounds like fun.” 

“Arthur, it’s too dangerous.” The old man had to say it, didn’t he.

“If I don’t get the antidote, what happens to Merlin?” _What would have happened to me?_

“The Morateus induces a slow and painful death. He may held out for four, maybe five days, but not for much longer. Eventually he will die.”

He didn’t have time to waste then.

* * *

Morgana sat by her dressing table absentmindedly feeling for the pins in her hair. She’d been looking forward watching the men make fools of themselves with too much wine and game. Arthur was always so much more pleasant company when the drink removed that stick from up his arse. And Merlin, well, she hadn’t had a chance to see what the boy would be like with a cup or three in him. 

He might have even told Gwen how he felt about her given the chance.

“My Lady, I am so sorry I haven’t been here to attend to you.” Gwen rushed in with a frown upon her face and tension in her voice.

“Don’t worry, I’m all right. How’s Merlin?” Morgana remembered how Gwen had looked when she’d found out Merlin had confessed to sorcery on her behalf. That fleeting hope, which had shown itself then, looked to have been crushed to the inch of its life now. 

“If Arthur comes back with the antidote in time, he’ll be fine.

“Then he’ll be fine.” Gwen needed comfort, not doubts. Morgana knew how to keep those to herself. “You should be with him. I’ll manage. I know what he means to you. Go.”

“Thank you.”

Morgana watched her maid leave the room. The night wasn’t over for either one of them.

* * *

Chasing down his father and getting him to agree to send out the knights with him proved to be just as taxing as Arthur had expected. What Arthur hadn’t expected was to receive another lecture of his own importance over those below him and in the burdens of kinghood. 

“Please, Father. He saved my life. I can’t stand by and watch him die.”

“Then don’t look.” Arthur could not believe his ears. Hadn’t his father taught him that ignoring a problem didn’t make it go away? Was this the same man talking? 

“This boy won’t be the last to die on your behalf.” Arthur heard the words though Uther never said them: _Nor is he the first._

“You’re going to be king. It’s something you’ll have to get used to.”

Arthur knew he was a disappointment to his father, that he could never be the man Uther was. For the first time, he realised he didn’t want it. If being king meant watching others die for him and doing nothing, Arthur would never be king.

“I can’t accept that.” 

“Dammit, Arthur! That’s an end to it. You’re not leaving this castle tonight.”

* * *

Defeated but buzzing with anger, Arthur returned to his rooms. The fire was lit and the chambers were warm. Who had kindled the fireplace in Merlin’s absence? Arthur couldn’t recall a single name or a face who to thank—or kick in the shin—for the service. 

“Say what you like about the food but you can’t beat our feast for entertainment.”

“Morgana. I’m sorry. I should’ve made sure you were all right.“ What was she doing here? Was she bored without her maid? Gwen must still be by Merlin’s side if Morgana darkened his doorway with her belligerence. Arthur tried not to think further down that path. 

“Yes, but why let the boys have all the fun.”

“Morgana, you shouldn’t get involved. It’s dangerous.” The words were familiar and spoken by rote. She’d never listened and she would not listen now.

“Spare me the lecture. I’ve already had it from Uther.” 

“If it’s any consolation, you weren’t the only one.” 

“Not that I listen to him. Sometimes you’ve got to do what you think is right and damn the consequences.” She’d thought this through, Arthur could tell. 

“You think I should go,” Arthur said. 

“Doesn’t matter what I think.”

The dutiful son hadn’t been banished and needed to have his say too: “If I don’t make it back who’ll be the next king of Camelot? There’s more than just my life at stake.” 

_That’s not the question you should be asking_ , her eyes told him. “And what kind of king would Camelot want? One that would risk his life to save that of a lowly servant, or one that does what his father tells him to?”

Arthur took the sword she offered him. 

“If I do this—“

“Arthur, you’re not fooling anyone.” 

“Fine. Watch out for father in the morning, he’ll not be happy that I’ve gone.”

“His bark is worse than his bite.”

“That’s because you’ve put a spell on him.”

“What?” Morgana asked.

“Nothing. Just—“

“I’ll take care of it. Of them. Go.”

Arthur felt the overwhelming need to hug Morgana he’d not felt since they’d been children. He bowed his head in a silent thanks and left.

* * *

Morgana watched Uther twist and turn and rant in the corner of her chamber. It was as expected. He was furious with Arthur and he was taking it out on her. Would that Ygraine had lived to handle these temper tantrums. Had she lived, maybe there wouldn’t be any bouts of anger. Not at this scale at least. 

“Should’ve put him under lock and key.”

“You can’t chain him up every time he disagrees with you.”

“Just you watch me. I will not be disobeyed especially by my own son.”

What could Morgana do but to agree and sit under the weight of it all. 

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Uther leaned over the table trying to intimidate her. Morgana feigned ignorance. “Morgana, don’t lie to me.”

“Arthur’s old enough to make decisions for himself.” Arthur was like a brother to her, why was she playing the mother in this argument?

“He’s just a boy.”

“Have you seen your son recently? You have to let him make his own mind up.” 

“Even if it means letting him go to his death?” Uther asked.

Morgana paused. “Arthur will face death, just like anyone else, at his own time. He’s done that before, knowingly, or have you forgotten what happened with Valiant?” 

“Morgana.” 

“If Arthur’s to be king, he has to make his own mistakes to learn from them and you have to let him, while you’re still here to fix things if needed.” Morgana twirled the quill between her fingers. “And you forget, Arthur is too stubborn to die. He inherited that from his father.”

* * *

Arthur couldn’t shake the uneasiness that followed him like a shadow. The Cockatrice was dead but Arthur still sensed danger.

“You can take me away from here?” the girl asked.

“Not yet. There’s something I have to do first.” As soon as he said the words, there was a change in her. He couldn’t quite explain it other than to say one moment she was lost and the next she wasn’t. Whatever his doubts may be, Arthur wasn’t about to abandon a lone maiden in the woods. She’d just have to wait a while.

Or she could lead him straight through the maze of the caves to the rare flower he was seeking. That wasn’t suspicious at all. 

Arthur followed the sauntering figure in the dark until they reached the ledge over the ravine. He could see the flower on the other side of the chasm but he could not see the bottom drop. Turning his back to this woman wasn’t a good idea, but without his knights Arthur was out of options. He masked his words as concern for her safety when all he wanted was to add to the distance between them. He didn’t fancy being pushed down. Nor did he guess he’d be spelled to fall either. 

Somehow, he should’ve known. Ever since Merlin’s appearance, magic and its users made themselves known all around him. Camelot’s laws and ban of magic meant nothing to them. Nothing but a target on Arthur’s back.

And then the eight-legged nightmares appeared.

“I’ll let his friends finish you off Arthur Pendragon. It is not your destiny to die by my hand.” She turned and walked away taking the light with her. 

“Who are you?” Not even the echo answered Arthur’s question. 

Still struggling to find a better grip, Arthur felt and then saw the ball of light appear. Had the sorceress changed her mind and come back to kill him? If she had, Arthur would not go down without a fight. He pulled himself up and onto the ledge. The light just floated in the air as if waiting for him. If he wasn’t going to be fighting an incorporeal glint, he might still reach the Mortaeus flower.

_Leave them._

Arthur ignored the thought and raced the giant spiders up the rock. 

_Go. Follow the light._

He climbed. He stretched, and he picked a flower. 

_Faster. Follow the light._

Arthur threw away his gloves and climbed. He focused on the words thrumming in his head as he moved his hands from one grip to the next and pushed his toes between ever smaller cracks in the rock wall. He climbed until the light escaped him and the cave. He didn’t stop until he’d reached the top and made sure none of the creepy crawlies were on his heels.

He didn’t have time for exhaustion; tonight wasn’t a night he’d sleep through. The race wasn’t over yet.

* * *

“You disobeyed me.”

“Of course I did. A man’s life was at stake.” A man? Perish the thought. “Do not let Merlin die because of something I did.”

“Why do you care so much the boy is just a servant?” Uther asked the one question Arthur dared not to ask himself. Suddenly the memory of Merlin standing by his door the night before the tournament finale, came to him. Duty. Merlin had done his as surely as Arthur did his. By choice. 

“He knew the danger he was putting himself in, he knew what would happen if he drank from that goblet, but he did it anyway. He saved my life. “ 

Arthur told his father about the woman who’d led him to the flower. He was only starting to realise how many more lives hung in the balance. Choosing to save one life might save countless others. But of course, the King’s obstinacy prevented him from seeing it. Wilful blindness would doom them all. 

When Uther crushed the flower in his hand, Arthur’s world snapped back into focus and to the one life—the one more precious than all those imprisoned in the cells of Camelot combined—he wanted to save.

“—Then you can find yourself another servant.”

If his father was blind, Arthur would be deaf.

* * *

Arthur would be deaf and blind but he would wait. He would wait until Gwen came for the flower. Arthur would wait until wiser voices convinced his father of what he already knew. Arthur would wait until his father’s anger subsided, and he’d be let out. Arthur would wait to hear the news of—

What if Merlin were to die? It should make Arthur’s life much easier. He’d go back to dealing with mere human servants who needed help to keep up with the damage Arthur inflicted on his surroundings, but he’d be one less huge secret on his conscience. Arthur was committing a crime hiding Merlin from his father and blood ties would not save him from the King’s wrath should he find out. Arthur would pay with his skin, if not his life. 

Were Merlin to live, Arthur had doomed himself into half truths and blatant lies in defence of the boy for the rest of his life. No, for the rest of his father’s life. Merlin would forever be between them. His magic, his irreverence, his smile. Were Merlin to live, Arthur should do his duty and tell his father everything he knew. 

He knew he would not.

* * *

“Let the bragging begin. How did you manage it?” Morgana was Morgana even in her curiosity. Only, Arthur was too tired to play the blustering Knight for her Lady of the castle.

“I’m not sure. All I do know is that I had help. Someone knew I was in trouble and sent a light guide the way.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” But could have hazarded a guess. “Whoever it was, I’m only here because of them.” That was called a clue in some circles. 

“I’m glad you’re back.” 

Arthur refused to cheapen the moment with an answer. He stayed to watch the departing Mercians as Morgana melted away. As soon as she was gone, Uther moved closer to ask him about the woman in the woods.

“I was at her mercy. She could have finished me off but she chose not to. She said it wasn’t my destiny to die at her hand.”

Uther’s attempts at father-son bonding were awkward. Maybe if he’d tried more often and not whenever Arthur had escaped death, it would have been easier. The hate poured out of him so much easier.

“Those who practice magic know only evil, they despise and seek to destroy goodness wherever they find it, which is why she wanted you dead. She is evil.”

Something didn’t fit. “Sounds as if you know her.”

“I do.” For a moment Arthur thought he’d hear something closer to truth than propaganda from his father’s lips. “To know the heart of one sorcerer is to know them all.” Arthur did not believe it. He could not. 

“You did the right thing even though you were disobeying me. I’m proud of you, Arthur. Never forget that.” Stunned, Arthur looked at this father. The closest thing to an apology from Uther followed by such an admission, it was almost enough to distract him. 

“Thank you, Father.”

* * *

“There you are.” Morgana held out her hands for Gwen to take them. “Tell me, tell me all about it.” 

Gwen’s smile wasn’t as bright as Morgana had expected it to be. “What’s wrong? Did the antidote not work?”

“It worked,” Gwen said. “For a moment there we thought, Gaius said that his heart had stopped, that he died, but he woke up. Merlin woke up.”

“This is good news, is it not?” Morgana pulled Gwen close to her side as they walked towards the castle.

“It is.” Gwen hesitated. “I kissed him. I kissed Merlin.”

“And how was it.”

“Not what I expected.”

“Better or—“

“Not bad, simply, lacklustre.”

“Oh, Gwen. He almost died. You can’t expect a man to show a great deal enthusiasm having recently returned from the death’s doorstep.” 

“It wasn’t him, it was me.”

“Ah.”

“My Lady, what does _’ah’_ mean?” 

“It means,” Morgana paused. “Gwen, darling, could you have been fooled by a pretty face?” 

“What?”

“Could it be that you simply liked the look of him and decided you fancy him? Could it be that now that you’ve learnt to know him a bit better, you’ve realised you don’t actually fancy him at all?”

“I—“

“Of maybe you’ve set your sights higher?” Morgana teased. 

“My Lady!”

“Gwen.” Morgana stopped them. “You deserve the best. Don’t settle for something you think is pretty enough or friendly enough. Wait for that spark you feel whenever he’s near. Please, Gwen, promise me.”

“Yes, My Lady. I promise.” Gwen bent her head like she always did when obliging her Lady’s whims. 

“Good. Now. Details.”

* * *

Arthur walked through Gaius’ door and stopped. Relief washed over him. 

“Still alive then,” he said with in a boisterous manner. Merlin was sitting in a chair by the table and Arthur walked over to him. Some things were better observed at close.

“Yeah, just about,” Merlin replied. He waited a moment and added tentatively: “I understand I have you to thank you for that.”

“Yeah, well, it was nothing. Half decent servant is hard to come by. I was only dropping by to make sure you were all right, check you’ll be back to work tomorrow.” Arthur had to leave. If he were to remain ignoramus he couldn’t project this much. 

“Of course, bright and early.” Merlin almost sounded like himself. 

“Arthur.” He stopped by the door and waited Merlin to finish what he wanted to say: “Thank you.”

“You too.” If this had been the first and only time, they’d be even. A sad thought crossed Arthur’s mind. They’d _never_ be even. “Get some rest.” 

Arthur left the room but stopped just outside of it. Second to Gaius then? Maybe Arthur could learn to live with that. Who was this _she_ they were talking about? And what great destiny? 

Reduced to eavesdropping outside the servants’ quarters? Really. The Camelot royalty wasn’t what it used to be. Arthur wouldn’t have had it any other way.


	5. Merlin 1x05 Lancelot — Or: Guinevere and the See Through Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Gwen meet a man with a see through shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to bookjunkie1975 for the beta.

* * *

“Grummond is the third to fail this month. How am I meant to defend Camelot with rubbish like that?” Arthur thought aloud like it was becoming his habit around Merlin. They were walking through the Lower Town as Arthur did his best not to think about what he was supposed to be defending Camelot from. 

“Well, I think I might be able to help.”

Naturally.

“You, Merlin? You haven’t the faintest idea what it takes to be a knight. Courage, fortitude, discipline.” The ability to walk without tripping himself. Arthur threw his sword on top of his armour, a burden Merlin carried easily for such a scrawny thing.

“No, of course I don’t. But I do know someone who does.”

This Arthur had to hear.

“He saved my life.”

And Arthur hadn’t? “That’s blowing it for starters.” He snorted.

“He’s really good. Honestly.”

“That’s great, Merlin. I’m sure he’s terrific, but you forget the First Code of Camelot.” If anyone had taken the time to inform him of it in the first place. “Only those of noble blood can serve as knights. So, unless your friend is a nobleman—“

“He is a nobleman.” 

Arthur stopped. What had made him think he was anything special to Merlin? Just because Arthur had made sure Merlin wouldn’t die of stupidity let alone of a rare poison didn’t mean Merlin hadn’t a queue of noble knights ready to defend his honour. 

“Is he?” 

“Absolutely,” Merlin said with a suspect smile.

“Very well. Bring him to the training ground tomorrow. And make sure he brings his seal of nobility.”

“Thanks, Arthur. You won’t regret it.” 

Arthur already did.

* * *

Whatever Gwen was waiting to see when she opened the door to a knock that day, Merlin standing next to a man even more beautiful than him wasn’t it.

“I need a favour,” Merlin said. “A huge one.” 

“What?” Gwen shook her head and focused on Merlin. 

“This is Lancelot. Can we come in?” 

The next thing Gwen knew, she was kneeling on the floor with a measuring tape and her face way too close to—

“This is very kind of you—“ Lancelot’s voice trailed away. 

“Gwen.” She offered.

Her name didn’t require a blush, but she appreciated the effort anyway.

“Short for Guinevere.”

“Then thank you, Guinevere.” She needed to deflect.

“Don’t thank me, thank Merlin. Merlin would do anything for anyone, wouldn’t you, Merlin? Sorry, can you raise your arms? Thank you. Sorry.” Gwen tried not to inhale too loudly as she slipped the tape around his chest and noted the width. Unfortunately she didn’t look away quickly enough and Lancelot caught her staring. Her fingertips tingled and her heart fluttered. She must have forgotten to eat that morning. 

Gwen walked around Lancelot and reached for the closest distraction she could think of. “I think it’s great that Merlin’s got you this chance. We need men like you.” 

“You do?” Lancelot sounded—Gwen tried to think of another word but failed—hopeful. His eyes darted down to her lips and back up to her eyes. 

“Well, not me personally, but you know, Camelot. Camelot needs knights.” Gwen tried to control her breaking voice. Part of her wanted to take back the words, but it was too late now. And if it wasn’t too late now, it would soon be. Just as soon as Lancelot passed the test and became a true knight. “Not just Arthur and his kind, but ordinary people like you and me.” 

“Well, I’m not a knight yet, My Lady.” It was as if he’d read her mind. 

“And I’m not a lady.” Gwen corrected him with a giggle ignoring his apologies. The moment had passed. “Okay, we’re done. I should have these ready in no time. It’s nice to meet you, Lancelot.” She offered him her hand and was utterly unprepared for the hasty kiss on her knuckles. Merlin—in his thoughtlessness—saved them from further embarrassment, or that’s what Gwen kept telling herself as she watched the two men leave.

* * *

Today was the day Merlin was bringing his _friend_ to try out for the knights of Camelot. Arthur kept pace as he spied Merlin fussing over some man at the sidelines. Gwen was there too. Why was Gwen there? Was the thing between Merlin and Gwen becoming serious?

When the timid but gorgeous—Merlin’s influence—approached and introduced himself Arthur couldn’t believe his luck.

“Lance-a-lot. My servant mentioned you.”

Arthur didn’t want to like the man but he did. Too bad he was woefully unprepared. Saving Merlin’s life was a full time job, even for two.

* * *

Arthur needed all the help he could get. That’s what he told himself the next time he searched out the knight candidate. It was either that or telling himself that it was too long since Arthur had last caused a commotion in Lower Town. 

“Would you like me to sweep the guardhouse again, Sire?” Lancelot asked when Arthur destroyed the first of the terrible brooms. 

“It certainly needs sweeping, but first, I’d like you to kill me.”

“Sire?”

“Come on. Don’t pretend you don’t want to. Hell, if I were you, I’d want to. Come on.”

Lancelot grabbed his own broom and they started play fighting. Broom handle clanked against another, and Arthur had to admit Lancelot was better with a weapon in his hand. He wasn’t precise or practiced and he sorely lacked lessons in hand-to-hand combat, but he was enthusiastic and quick to learn. He didn’t make the same mistake twice. Arthur was starting to enjoy himself. At least Lancelot could fight, unlike Merlin had.

“Congratulations, Lancelot. You just made basic training.” Arthur walked away wondering whether he should break the news to Merlin or was it better to let Lancelot tell his friend. 

The bells turned his stroll into a run.

* * *

Gwen had heard rumours that Camelot was in danger. But then, Camelot was always in danger. Only this time, the tunic she’d sewn was in danger too. Lancelot confirmed it and Merlin agreed. Arthur had arranged a test for Lancelot for the next morning. 

She spent a restless night on the floor letting her father sleep in the bed. He needed all the rest he could get if he were to make and repair the knights’ armour on the days ahead. Gwen, however, couldn’t stop remembering the feeling of the fabric under her fingers or his scent that would now cling to it possessively. Or that’s how she imagined it would be. Not that she would ever know for sure. 

After her early morning duties, Gwen snuck out before Morgana had even woken up and stole away to the practice grounds. She found Merlin and was just in time to wish Lancelot good luck. They watched as Arthur made his big speech and engaged Lancelot. 

Their swords sang and Gwen couldn’t help but be captivated by it. She wanted Lancelot to succeed so badly that when he missed, she grabbed the nearest thing to hold herself upright. The nearest thing just happened to be Merlin, who still, occasionally, looked at her askance. That kiss was going to haunt her until her dying day.

Time was not yet full, when Lancelot fell. Gwen felt her heart drop. She hid her face behind her hands trying not to show her concern. Then Lancelot tripped Arthur and she was ready to smile to the whole world. 

Lancelot had become a knight of Camelot.

Now Gwen just needed to decide what to think of Morgana noticing the man. Two beautiful people such as them would inevitably gravitate towards each other.

* * *

Arthur didn’t admit he’d reacted badly. He absolutely hadn’t lost his temper and thrown a temper tantrum over deceptive tactics that would _not_ work on the field of battle. Naturally, this show of moodiness didn’t have anything to do with his own lapse in caution, and Arthur was as delighted as anyone to add another knight to the guard. 

His father would grumble and gripe for a time, but Arthur would have another able body and skilled fighter to lead in battle. And wine to drink in the feast that night.

“Here’s trouble,” Arthur said when he noticed Morgana stopping to eat something. She was wearing that ridiculous dress again, the one she’d introduced to court when Merlin had first arrived in Camelot. Arthur remembered the long looks from that night, but she was like a sister to him. He needed an unbiased opinion and Lancelot would have to oblige his prince in this. “Tell me, do you think her—beautiful?”

“Yes, Sire. I do.”

That didn’t sound promising. If Merlin managed to avoid falling in love with Gwen, he’d surely go back to crushing over the King’s ward. “Yeah, I suppose she is.” 

Morgana had noticed his stare and was playing that game again, the one where they tried to nauseate each other from across the room. She was going to win this round, because Arthur’s heart wasn’t in it. He needed more wine.

* * *

“You know what? I think our Sir Lancelot might have eyes for you Gwen.” 

“Don’t be silly.” Gwen admonished Merlin. It wouldn’t do to feed her impossible dreams. 

“What? So what if he did? Would it really be so bad?” 

“He’s not really my type,” Gwen said.

Sometimes Merlin’s thickheadedness was a blessing—like when Merlin failed to see how utterly besotted Gwen had been with him—but other times his thoughtlessness bordered cruelty. Like right now.

“Oh, well, there’s a surprise. Sometimes, Guinevere, I wonder if you’d know what your type was if he was standing right next to you.”

She looked up to him when his head was turned away and said: 

“You’re probably right.” 

At least she now knew when someone who wasn’t her type was standing next to her. She should be thankful for that much, which Merlin illustrated by continuing his foolishness.

“Just for the sake of argument, if you had to, Arthur or Lancelot?” 

“But I don’t have to and I never will.” Unlike Merlin, Gwen’s contact with both men was limited to the occasional nod of acknowledgement. Maybe Gwen wasn’t the one who would have to choose her master, maybe Merlin was.

“You are no fun, Gwen.”

Maybe so, but at least she’d get to watch others have fun.

* * *

“These credentials are faked.”

It wasn’t the wine and fine dining come back to haunt him that crashed down on Arthur that morning. No, it was the sense of a silent _I should’ve known_ that echoed painfully through his brain. The man had come highly recommended by _Merlin_. Of course there was bound to be something suspicious going on. The next thing they’d tell him, was that Merlin had snuck down to the archives and copied Lancelot’s seal of nobility. 

Geoffrey of Monmouth kept laying down his evidence against Lancelot and Uther jumped in to confront the man. When Lancelot admitted the deceit right away, Arthur saw why he was best friends with Merlin: Both were equally inept in keeping secrets. 

It hurt to watch, but not as much as it hurt to watch his father make a fool of himself. A royal fool. 

The First Code of Camelot was relic. It may have meant something thirty or twenty years ago, but not anymore. Arthur had seen landless men defend their horse with more honour than he’d seen some of this so-called nobility protect all those who relied upon them. 

What was worse than watching Uther safeguard an antiquated tradition was watching Lancelot believe him.

“Sire,” Arthur said after they’d taken Lancelot away.

“Do you contest my judgement?”

“His deception was inexcusable.” Arthur had some experience in how to get through to his father, however unlikely it may be. His best option was to start with an acquiescence and continue with reasoning. “But he meant no harm, Sire. I’m sure of it. He only wished to serve.”

“The First Code is a sacred bond of trust. It is what binds the knights together.” Then what had Arthur been doing all this time? Why had he risked his life time and again to prove himself worthy to lead men if all he’d needed to do was to born into the right bloodline. Didn’t Uther see the conflict in this? 

“How can you trust a man who has lied to you?”

Arthur didn’t have an answer to that.

* * *

“You said your knights are the best in the land. You proved that today.” Uther’s praise fell flat after the poor show of form and strength they’d given on the courtyard. 

“All I know is it’s still out there,” Arthur said. Uther kept preening and prattling on.

“Sire, if I may.” Gaius’ voice was a welcome distraction. 

“I’ve been researching this creature, Sire. I believe it to be a griffin—a creature of magic.”

“I don’t have time for this, physician.”

“It is born of magic, Sire, and it can only be killed by magic.” Gaius soldiered on better than any knight could against his king. 

“You are mistaken,” was the King’s predictable reply. “It’s a creature of flesh and blood like any other. Arthur proved that today.”

Arthur couldn’t let that statement stand uncontested. “I’m not so sure, Father. I think there may be some truth in what he says.”

“What truth?”

“The griffin was unharmed, Sire. Our weapons seemed useless against it.” He should have said _were_ , their weapons _were_ useless against it.

“Useless. I think not. No, it’s tasted our steel once, the next time will be its last. When will your knights be ready to ride again?”

Helpless, Arthur watched his father write his destiny once again. The man would rather sacrifice his own son than admit to being wrong. And Arthur was powerless to stop him, for now. He must protect the people of Camelot or die trying. He just wished his father wasn’t so keen on the dying part. 

“An hour, maybe two.”

“Good. We finish this tonight.” Uther had decided.

Arthur had a decision of his own to make.

* * *

Lancelot was surprised to see him, when Arthur walked in and let out his disappointment.

“I should’ve known. How could I have been so stupid?!” _I know, I know, don’t remind me. Merlin._ “You don’t sound like a knight, you don’t even look like a knight.”

“I’m sorry.” Lancelot would never learn that apologies got him nowhere. He definitely wasn’t nobility then.

“I’m sorry, too. Because, Lancelot, you fight like a knight. And I need… Camelot needs…”

“The creature?” There was the sign of acuteness Arthur, and Camelot, needed. 

“We could not kill it. I’ve never faced its like.”

“I’ve faced it myself, Sire. Some days past.” Some days past? That was when Merlin said Lancelot had saved his life. Arthur heard confirmation in Lancelot’s words. “I struck it full square. I wondered how it endured.”

“There are those who believe this creature, this griffin, is a creature of magic, that only magic can destroy it.” Arthur was laying it a bit thick, but he had no way of knowing for sure if Merlin had shared his secret with Lancelot. If Merlin had willingly trusted his life and future in Camelot in Lancelot’s hands. 

“Do you believe this?” Lancelot stepped closer and Arthur had to turn away. Even in the dark cell that shirt was—too thin, even for a man as hairy as Lancelot was.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. The use of magic is not permitted. The knights must prevail with steel and sinew alone.” Arthur walked to the door of the cell, he didn’t have time for second thoughts.

“Sire.”

“There’s a horse waiting outside.” Arthur ignored Lancelot’s profuse thanks. “Take it and never return to this place.”

“No. Please. It’s not freedom I seek. I only wish to serve with honour.”

“I know.”

“Then let me ride with you, Sire.” 

“I cannot.” _Hear what I cannot say._ “My father knows nothing of this. I release you myself, but I can do no more. Now, go before I change my mind.” _Go. Go and find Merlin. Do what I cannot. Save Camelot._

* * *

Gwen was waiting for her father to return from the forge for the night, when someone knocked on the door. She turned and saw Lancelot come through. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, My Lady.”

“Lancelot, what are you doing here?” Gwen rose up on her feet and ignored the flattering words he’d said to her.

“I have no time to explain. I need weapons, armour, the best you’ve got.”

“But what’s this all about?”

“Arthur stands in mortal peril. I must do what I can to protect him. It’s my duty. My honour.” He sounded so sincere. Too sincere to be real.

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

“Yes, My Lady.” 

“Lancelot, I don’t believe I’ve ever met your like before.” It made her sad. She was going to lose him before she’d even had the chance to know him.

He stepped closer. “Guinevere, if I should not return—” 

“Don’t go, Lancelot, please.” She interrupted him and waited. For a moment, for a heartbeat it felt like he felt the same.

“But go I must.” Gwen dropped her eyes and forced a smile to hide her disappointment. He was so near, yet so far. She looked up again and she felt it, that spark Lady Morgana had told her to wait for. Gwen knew that this was it, this man was her life, and she had to save him. 

“The armour, there’s enough in the back.”

As soon as they would be done, Gwen would go to the one person who she knew would help. The one person who had come to her aid even in the face of death.

* * *

“For Camelot.” 

The battle cry still echoed in his brain when he felt cold fingers at his neck.

_Arthur._

There were voices, human voices not his own, but Arthur was too addled to make out the words or glean their meaning. Arthur wished them away for the griffin lived. Maybe at morning’s light his father would change his mind and accept the unacceptable, that they needed magic to save the city.

He heard the words, again and again. He heard the rhythm of hooves and he felt the light of something bright on his skin. Maybe if he got up now there would be no need for lies in the future. 

The blow to the head from earlier slowed Arthur down, but once he got on his feet he saw the rider. 

“Lancelot.”

If not Merlin, Arthur could at least see honour restored on one.

“You did it. You killed it, Lancelot!”

* * *

“You did it, my son. You did it.”

“Not I, Father. It was Lancelot.”

Arthur knew it would be a hard battle when Uther saw Lancelot and promptly threw him out, but Arthur also knew it was something he had to do. He couldn’t do it all at once or get to his father change his mind about magic, not yet. Maybe not ever. But Arthur would make damn sure the knights of Camelot would accept all the best swordsmen in the land. The kingdom deserved it.

“I confess it, Sire. I released him and I’ll take the consequences, but surely Lancelot’s actions change things.”

“His actions change nothing. He broke the code!” Uther stood as unbending as always, but Arthur wasn’t ready to admit defeat. He wasn’t done yet. 

“He laid down his life for me! He served with honour.”

“I see you feel strongly about this, Arthur. Under the circumstances, a pardon perhaps?”

“No, not good enough, Father. You must restore Lancelot to his rightful place, as a knight of Camelot.” Arthur made his demand.

“Never. The law is the law. The Code bends for no man.”

_You’re King. You made the law and you can change it!_

Arthur had to bite his tongue not to say the words that would make him a child at his father’s feet once again.

“Then the code is wrong.”

As unlikely it was, Arthur could feel his father’s resistance breaking. Uther watched stone-faced as Arthur listed all the noble candidates they’d had to turn away in passing months for inferior quality. Arthur reiterated each and every incident that showed Lancelot having the courage and fortitude that could not be bought with a right bloodline. Discipline was something to be instilled in men who trained together, not fed in mother’s milk. 

Then Lancelot stormed in and his incessant nobility of heart ruined it all.

“Forgive me, Sire. I’ve come to bid you farewell.”

“What is this, Lancelot?”

“I lied to you both and now there is conflict between you. I cannot bear that burden as you should not bear mine. I must start again, far from here. Then maybe one day fate shall grant me another chance to prove myself a worthy knight of Camelot.”

“But… Lancelot, you’ve already proved that to us.”

“I must prove it to myself.” 

Arthur watched as the man who refused to accept the credit for saving Camelot wrecked this chance to better the law for all. Lancelot would lie for a chance to prove his worth but he wouldn’t lie to steal honour from another, not even if it were the first step on long road in giving the honour to the one who’d really earned it. Merlin. 

Arthur damned the fool, for he could not contradict him in front of the others. He’d never learn to accept defeat.

* * *

“Gwen? Guinevere?” Morgana had called out her name more than once. Gwen tore her eyes from the road and the distancing figure. 

“Lancelot?” Morgana asked gently.

“Oh, yes.” Gwen nodded smiling sadly. 

“Come, Gwen. We’ve a busy day ahead.” 

“Yes, My Lady.” 

Gwen knew there was absolutely nothing urgent planned for that day, but Morgan made do and kept her too busy to wallow in her misery and longing for too long. As the night approached and the candles had to be lit, Morgana waited by her dresser. Gwen went around the room from one candelabrum to another. She was tired, but not tired enough.

“Gwen, you can tell me, if you want.”

“Yes, My Lady,” Gwen said. She didn’t think it further until she found herself standing behind Morgana with a brush in her hand and looking at her mistress’ concerned face in the mirror. 

“The spark. I felt it.”


	6. Merlin 1x06 A Remedy to Cure All Ills — Or: What We Didn't See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the focus was on Gaius, Arthur and the others weren't idle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to bookjunkie1975 and mssdare for the beta.

* * *

Gwen was bringing her flowers again. They’re too fancy to be handpicked and Morgana didn’t lie when she said:

“How disappointing.”

Expensive gifts were only good when extorted from the unwilling. From a secret admirer and for a genuine gesture Morgana preferred something simpler and thoughtful. Gwen knew this even if she teased her about Arthur. 

Maybe tomorrow Morgana would find a way to pay the Prince back with a puzzle of her own.

* * *

The door swung. Hasty steps crossed the room. The curtains fell open. 

“ _Good_ morning, Sire,” the insufferable voice said. 

Arthur ignored it and pulled the pillow tighter over his face. There’s a gentle tug and the blanket slided down. Arthur was determined not to shiver in the cold air.

“ _Arthur._ ”

Was that a whine? Arthur ignored it and tried to empty his mind. 

“They’re waiting for you at the training grounds. I think your father might be there to observe the practice today.” 

Arthur tried to climb under his pillow but only so much of him would fit.

“I know you’re awake and that you can hear me.”

It wasn’t the sound of his voice or the words Merlin said that shook Arthur. It was the feel of a warm breath on his bare shoulder. 

The pillow fell aside as Arthur turned to look up trying to uncross his eyes. “What?”

“Good morning. Breakfast is on the table and your clothes are on the chair. I’ll be right back.” Merlin smiled and backed away from the bed. 

“What? Where are you going?” 

“To take Morgana her medicine, I forgot to do it yesterday.”

Arthur sat up. “Bloody hell, Merlin. She’s going to be miserable and in turn make everyone, make _us_ , miserable too.”

“I know, I know,” Merlin said and closed the door behind him.

Arthur rubbed his hands over his face. He might as well get up. At least on the training grounds he’d escape Morgana’s wrath for a few hours.

* * *

“Good morning, Gwen.” Merlin caught up and fell in step with her as they headed towards Morgana’s chambers.

“Good morning, Merlin.”

“Is Lady Morgana awake yet?”

“No, I don’t think so. She doesn’t usually sleep this late, but she so rarely sleeps well that I didn’t want to wake her up.”

“Um, that might be my fault. I forgot to bring her Gaius’ sleeping potion.”

“ _Merlin!_ ” Somehow it sounded worse when Gwen said it.

“I know! I’m sorry and everything but could you—“

“No! You’ll have to explain yourself.” 

“Gwen, please.”

She remained firm. “No.”

They’d reached the door. Gwen gestured Merlin to stay quiet as she pushed the door open and slipped into the room. A little later Gwen’s frantic voice called out: “Merlin! Get Gaius, I can’t wake her. I can’t wake Morgana!”

* * *

“You look surly.” Arthur took the water cup Merlin offered him and looked at his moping man servant.

“If it’s all right with you, Sire,” Arthur gritted his teeth when he heard the word, “I’ll spend today helping Gaius.”

“Is there another epidemic spreading in the Lower Town or why does he need you?”

“No, nothing like that.” Merlin was hiding something, trying to appear inconspicuous, which was about as painless as voluntarily ramming a stick under a thumbnail. 

“Merlin, tell me.”

“Morgana’s asleep. No one can wake her up. Gaius is trying to figure it out and he’s asked for my help. If I may—”

“Go,” Arthur said. He looked at the empty cup in his hand. He didn’t know what to do with it. “Go. Do what you can.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said mid bow.

“Don’t thank me, just, help her.”

Merlin nodded, backed a couple of steps, turned and ran into the castle. 

Arthur ignored the stone in the pit of his stomach. Everything would be fine by dinner time.

* * *

Everything wasn’t fine by dinner time. Things hadn’t turned back to normal by the next day either. Uther forwent the evening meal and so did Arthur. Gaius had released Merlin who brought a small platter into Arthur’s chambers.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked.

“I thought you might be hungry.” Arthur pointedly looked down at the empty platter and waited. “There’s nothing I can do for Gaius and I can’t stay there and—“

“And?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Merlin said.

Arthur gestured for Merlin to step in and close the door behind him. He sat in front of the fireplace looking into flames someone other than Merlin had lit at dusk. 

Merlin walked around the room. He stopped to straighten the bedspread Arthur hadn’t had the chance to rumple, and left the platter on the cupboard in the corner. Merlin ambled around Arthur and stood by the window closest to the fire for a moment. Then he suddenly turned and walked across the room only to return to where he’d started off. Merlin kept walking as he muttered:

“It’s going to be all right. It is. I know it is. She’s going to be absolutely—“

“Merlin.” Arthur interrupted him.

“What?”

“You’re making me anxious.”

“But I’m not worried,” Merlin said as if that made everything better.

“Then stop pacing,” Arthur said barely containing his unease.

Merlin quickly dropped down to sit on a chair by the table. Arthur needed to do something. He needed to move if only to drown out the sound of Merlin’s fingers tapping the table. 

Morgana was going to be all right. She had to be. Surely Merlin would have fixed her already if the cause for her unconsciousness was something magical, so it had to be something natural. They just needed to give Gaius enough time fix her. And he would fix her. 

Morgana was going to be all right.

* * *

“I cannot preserve her life much longer. She has hours, maybe less.” 

Arthur’s hopes was crushed by Gaius’ words. He lashed out: “We cannot let her die!”

Arthur didn’t see the look on his father’s face nor did he see the resignation on Gaius, because he’d remembered something. And Arthur was desperate enough to open his mouth and speak:

“There’s a man, he came to the castle yesterday. He claims he can cure her— he says he has a remedy to cure all ills.” 

“Impossible,” came Gaius’ prompt reply.

“For Morgana’s sake, surely we should at least hear him out. I mean, what’ve we got to lose? Please, Father.”

Arthur tried very hard not to strike the old man as he spoke his skepticism. 

“I don’t care! If she’s about to die, what harm can it do? Give him his shilling! If there’s one chance in a million he can save her, then why not?”

Arthur waited only until Uther’s permission before bolting out of the room and the castle and into town to find this charlatan that might be Morgan’s only hope.

* * *

Arthur wanted to believe, he so badly wanted to believe in the lies falling from the burnt man’s lips, but he couldn’t quite let himself. Watching Muirden dance for his father and Gaius, seeing Merlin’s eyes follow the man from across the room, made Arthur feel anxious. 

As much as to appear hospitable Arthur wanted someone to keep an eye on the man. That’s why he set Merlin at Muirden’s disposal. If the boy learned anything, he’d be sure to tell someone—if not Arthur, then Gaius, or Gwen. Merlin couldn’t keep secrets and sometimes that was a good thing in a spy. 

Then Muirden came down the stairs to tell them Morgana was awake, and Arthur forgot. He simply forgot.

* * *

“Gwen, stop fussing.” Morgana complained, but that only encouraged the girl to poke at the pillows and the blankets. 

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” she said.

“I’m about as comfortable as I can stand to be. I need to get out of this bed,” Morgana said looking around her. “Three days?” 

Arthur nodded the confirmation. He was sitting on the side of her bed and holding her hand in his. His thumb moved over Morgana’s knuckles.

“Gods. I need a bath.”

“Yes, you do. I was starting to think they’d relocated the pigsty into your chambers,” Arthur said. 

“Arthur!” Gwen’s outburst turned heads. Her eyes grew wide and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. Just as Gwen was about to start her tirade of apologies, Morgana snorted. She shook and unraveled in laughter. Arthur laughed with her, and after a couple of long moments so did Gwen. 

There was a fourth laughing too, but he snuck out soon after. 

When the giggles and guffaws subsided, Morgana reclaimed her hand.

“What did I miss? Tell me everything. Tell me who that creepy man is?”

“Muirden?” Arthur asked. “He saved your life, just because he’s disfigured—“

“That’s not what I meant,” Morgana said. “He can look like a troll and be a brilliant physician, but those things don’t make him any less creepy. I get cold shivers whenever he tries to touch me even if it’s just to brush aside my hair to look at my ear. There’s something wrong with him.”

“I saw him,” Gwen stopped abruptly. 

“What did you see?” Morgana asked.

“When he was supposed to be healing you, he wasn’t using any of his tools or herbs. All he had in his hands were pincers and that small piece of cloth, the one with blood on it.” Gwen took a deep breath. “Unless he bled himself, I don’t see where the blood could have come. Your ears didn’t bleed, My Lady.

* * *

It had to be the idea of change. The thought of Gaius growing too old for his post and someone else helping him, taking over for him, was what bothered Arthur. It couldn’t have been the suspicious ways of the young would be physician and miracle worker. 

That’s what Arthur told himself as he watched Muirden bow and prance, speak flattering words to the King and whispering poison against Gaius. Not all believed in integrity and some had to rely on deception to get ahead in life, to gain position and respect.

It was easy for Arthur to fool himself when he could feel Morgana trying to convince herself of the same thing. They both had issues with letting go people they cared about.

* * *

It wasn’t until later, when Merlin came to him trying to understand why the King would discard a loyal servant such as Gaius, that Arthur remembered his earlier suspicions. Maybe magic was involved in this after all.

Arthur thought about the fights he’d had with his father recently, of all the times he’d gone against the King’s wishes and what had happened with Lancelot. He felt tired. He felt too exhausted to do anything. 

“No one wants Gaius to go,” Arthur said, “but my father’s made his decision. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

A smarter man would have interpreted that as a challenge.

* * *

Arthur was walking back to his chambers after spending an hour with Morgana and Gwen when a guard stopped him. Something was wrong with his father.

They needed help. They needed Gaius, no Muirden. Merlin would find him.

* * *

“How do we get the beetle out before it kills him?” 

Arthur stopped breathing. He’d returned to see if the physicians were taking care of his father only to find the room empty. Arthur couldn’t explain what instinct had taken him over or why he’d hid behind the screen circling his father’s room. All he knew, he didn’t dare show himself right then. He leaned against the wall and tried to listen. 

“It can only be magic,” Gaius said.

“Can’t use magic on Uther, he’d kill us.” 

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Gaius.”

“There are times when it is necessary. It is your right.”

“I don’t know how,” Merlin said.

_Yes, you do._

“If you don’t. He’s going to die,” Gaius said and then there was nothing. Arthur wanted to see. He wanted to stretch and look around the screen to see what was happening but he didn’t dare.

“What’s happening?” _Thank you, Gaius._ “Has anyone ever told you you’re a genius?” 

_That’s a bit rich._

“You certainly haven’t.”

_You’re an idiot, Merlin, but thank you. I’ll find a way to thank you._

After the outlaws had stolen away, and Uther started to move around in his bed, Arthur stepped out from his hiding place and went to his father. There’d be another charade to play and lies to be told later, but right now Arthur needed to see his father lived. Uther was far from the unerring King he had grown up idolising, but the man was still Arthur’s father. 

Having almost lost what was left of his family, Arthur needed the reassurance.


	7. Merlin 1x07 The Gates of Avalon — Or: Old Loyalties and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Arthur and Morgana have trouble with magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to bookjunkie1975 and sonofsilly for the beta. I'm late I know and I'm sorry.

* * *

The morning hadn’t started out well. Arthur hated waking up early even when he’d asked for it. They were going for a hunt and morning light was the best time to catch a deer unawares, but fighting for his blanket before the sun was up didn’t particularly improve his aim either. 

Then, in the woods, while Merlin was perfectly happy to haul the hares around he lacked a certain—eloquence that stalking a prey required.

“We’re supposed to be hunting. It requires speed, stealth, and an agile mind.” Arthur had just finished ranting when Merlin remarked:

“So you’re able to get by on two out of three then?”

Arthur didn’t have the time to bite back his grin or even to let the jab sink in when they were distracted by cries of distress. A woman. Definitely. Someone needed help. 

Arthur took his sword and dashed off without bothering to make sure Merlin followed. 

There were four of them, bandits, harassing an old man and his charge on the road. Arthur would have preferred to have one of his knights with him, but he’d do what he could. He raised his crossbow, aimed, and shot. Two of the men left standing came right at him. Switching the crossbow for a sword, Arthur fought and he grappled, but he found himself left between the men. Dammit, he knew better than to let that happen. 

Something exploded and a tree limb crushed one of the bandits. Arthur defended himself and ended the fight. He turned to face the last man only to see him flee into the thicket of threes. 

Looking at the large branch that had fallen and the suspiciously fresh wound up on the trunk, Arthur said just loud enough for Merlin to hear: “Stroke of luck.” 

Instead of taking the hint, Merlin opened his mouth and let out something idiotic. Poor boy had to work on his distraction skills; Arthur knew very well who was covering his back. 

Slipping into his royal persona, Arthur enquired after the would-be victims’ wellbeing. Naturally the father and daughter had to be escorted to the castle, and Arthur silently bid farewell to his morning off.

* * *

Aulfric and Sofia Tír-Mòr were granted an audience with the King. The whole time Arthur stood aside listening to the old men talk, he couldn’t take his eyes of the young girl. There was something about her that bothered him. She was very pretty of course, and an obedient daughter to her father, but not quite a Lady. 

Years spent growing up with Morgana had taught Arthur to appreciate the word and all its implications. He knew several so-called noble families with daughters—and mothers—that clung to the title by the grace of their birth and nothing else just as he’d seen a handful of handmaidens conduct themselves with such propriety princesses could only dream of. Yet, Arthur could not quite call Sophia Tír-Mòr a Lady even though he knew he must.

“You must stay here awhile, break your journey. A noble family like yours is always welcome in Camelot.” When Uther invited the travellers to stay, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. This would give him time to find out what it was about Aulfric and Sophia that vexed him.

* * *

“Make sure you put her in a decent room,” Arthur said as he walked into his chambers with Merlin close to his heel.

“The one next door is empty.”

Excellent, Arthur thought, and he said as much. He threw off his jacket and noticed the weird smile-like thing on Merlin’s face. “Shut up, Merlin.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Merlin said as he pretended to clear out the table.

“You didn’t have to.” Arthur felt like huffing. He pulled on the fancy red coat Merlin had obviously magicked odourless and continued to prattle on about his honourable intentions. What was he saying? Arthur wanted to learn more about the girl, he wasn’t about to marry her. But her father didn’t know that. Maybe it would be better if Merlin would make sure Sophia was put as far away from the resident prince as possible. 

“Of course,” Merlin agreed. “She, er, is very beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.” Arthur couldn’t deny the obvious. His personal preferences didn’t matter. 

“And if your intentions are honourable—“

“Oh, they are. Most definitely.” If wanting to pry into her most innermost secrets could be called honourable.

“Then what’s the problem with her staying next door?”

Arthur let himself be convinced and changed back into the jacket he’d been wearing earlier. Maybe there was time for a quick jaunt outside after all.

* * *

Morgana had sent Gwen away to take care of her other duties as soon as she’d dared. She hadn’t slept well the night before and watching Gwen fuss over her only made the headache worse. Morgana convinced herself that a walk through the cooler parts of the castle would help the pain. She wasn’t expecting to walk into a ghost from her dream.

There in the corridor, near Arthur’s chambers, Merlin was attending to a young woman. Morgana had first seen that face hours earlier watching over her as she sank under the waves, watching her die. Except it hadn’t been her; it had been Arthur.

“Who is that?” Morgana asked Merlin as soon as the girl had disappeared from view and into her rooms.

“Sophia Tír-Mòr,” Merlin said. “We rescued her in the woods. Well, Arthur did most of the rescuing.” 

Morgana didn’t have time to dig for new ammunition against her foster brother, she had more important things on her mind.

“She can’t stay here.”

“The King said she and her father are welcome in Camelot. Is everything okay?”

Morgana forced a smile. “Yes. Thank you.” This was Merlin. He didn’t know, he couldn’t possibly understand. Morgana needed to talk to someone she could trust.

* * *

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Morgana didn’t knock but she did apologise for barging in on Gaius. The man was playing with fire, quite literally. It was enough to distract her from the _favourite patient_ comment she detested. 

“It’s just—your bench is on fire.”

Morgana counted to three and waited for Gaius to react. She cast a quick look around and fetched the water bowl for him. “Here.” 

Once the fire was put out, Gaius glanced at her from under his heavy brow.

“You’re always getting me into trouble.” Gaius’ joke fell flat. Morgana knew full well into how much trouble her news could get him—them both—if her fears were true. “What brings you to this dark corner?”

“I had another dream.”

“I see.”

“I saw Arthur lying under water, drowning, and there was a woman standing over him, watching him die. And she’s here in Camelot.”

Morgana knew what he would say before Gaius even opened his mouth. “The mind plays tricks.”

Impatiently, she rushed to explain: “But I had this dream before she came to Camelot.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“No. I know what I saw,” she said. “It was so real, so vivid. I saw him die, Gaius. She’s going to kill him.”

“Those are just dreams, Morgana. Nothing more.” 

_Just dreams, nothing more._

How many times had she heard those words? From her mother, from her father, then Uther and Gaius. Always Gaius. He did the best he could to find a cure or a remedy to give her some comfort, some peace of mind, but those potions never worked.

_Just dreams._

Morgana didn’t know whether to believe it or not.

_Nothing more._

She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

“Are you taking the sleeping draught I made up for you?” 

“It doesn’t help.” Morgana knew this dance, she knew what was expected of her and as much as she wanted to fight it, she was too tired. She took the vial of the new potion, one that would not work, said her thank yous and made for the door. 

“Morgana. Don’t bother Uther about this. No need to worry him.” 

It was a good thing Morgana hadn’t believed Gaius when he’d told her she didn’t have anything to fear. They both knew, in this, she needed to fear Uther.

* * *

Gwen was there when Morgana returned to her chambers. 

“What is it?” she asked.

“A new draught from Gaius. It’s supposed to put me into a deeper sleep, deep enough to keep the dreams at bay.” Morgana put the potion on the side table and sat on her bed.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Gwen asked sounding hopeful.

Morgana shook her head.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” 

“Not tonight, Gwen. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Very well. Shall I help you with your dress then?”

“Thank you.”

When Morgana was ready for bed, Gwen said goodnight and left. Morgana rested against the pillows and stared at the vial for a long time. What harm would it do to try once more? She grabbed the thing and drank the potion before she had a chance to regret her choice.

She lay back on the pillows and dreamed.

* * *

Arthur adopted a casual stance against one of the posts of his bed. He watched Merlin turn the sheets and fluff the pillows and waited for the right moment.

“I’m taking Sophia out for a ride today. You know, to show her around.”

“Where do I come into this?” Merlin could be quick when it suited him.

“Well, I’m supposed to be on patrol with my father’s guard this morning, so I’ll need you to cover me,” Arthur said. Watching Merlin react to this news was almost payment enough 

“What? And lie to the King? No. No way. No, he’ll see right through me.” That much was true. Merlin was a terrible liar. “He’ll have me in the stocks quicker than you can say rotten tomatoes.” 

“Merlin. I need you to do this for me.” Arthur knew he was asking a lot but there wasn’t anyone else he could ask. First of all, no one else was actually mad enough to lie to the King, and secondly, Arthur knew Merlin could pull it off. Although Arthur could see right through Merlin’s lies, no one else seemed to. Uther, for instance, remained perplexingly ignorant about the warlock in his castle.

“I’m a terrible liar. I start sweating, my vision blurs, my brain stops working.”

“Well, no change there, then.” Ha. ”Look. I promised Sophia I’d take her out and if I don’t turn up it’ll blow my chances.” _Of finding out what she and her father are really up to._

“You like her, then.”

Arthur wasn’t quite sure what to think of the wistful way Merlin was looking at him when he spouted those things about her beauty and about his plans to spend time with Sophia without his father—or hers—knowing what they were doing. “I can’t order you to lie to the King, but—you’ll be a friend for life if you do.”

Arthur meant that part. Anyone who chose to give his loyalty to a measly prince over a King deserved to see that loyalty returned.

“Go on, then, you don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Thanks, Merlin. I won’t forget it.”

* * *

“Are you sure it’s her?

Gwen had found Morgana exhausted and wide awake shivering under the covers that morning. She’d been quite persistent—in that way only Gwen knew how to be—in getting Morgana to tell her everything. Leaning on that familiar shoulder and sharing her bad dreams had often driven them away. Gwen had a way of conquering Morgana’s demons, but it didn’t work this time. This time the nightmare was different. This time it was real.

“You should speak to the King.”

As wise as Gwen was about certain things, there were others she was equally naive about.

“And tell him what? That I can see the future?” Morgana said mocking Gwen’s trust as much as her own. “You know how he’d react.”

“You’re his ward. He wouldn’t harm you.”

“He hates magic more than he cares for me.”

“That’s not true.”

Morgana wanted to believe that, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. All these years she’d spent in Uther’s court she’d given him more than enough reason to distrust everything she said and did. She’d certainly challenged him often enough to give him headaches that rivalled those caused by the witches and warlocks that stepped into the King’s grasp. 

“But what else can you do?”

“I’m going to have to try and stop her myself.”

* * *

Arthur was taking Sophia to a beautiful spot by the river when she called him by his name. They hadn’t talked much on the way to the woods and he’d been busy thinking up the best questions to ask, but now it looked she wanted to skip that part altogether. 

Sophia came to stand in front of him. She took his hands and looked into his eyes. She opened her mouth and—said something. She’d said something, hadn’t she?

Why was she pulling away?

Arthur heard the shout and saw the crossbow being raised. He had just enough time to react and pull them both down and aside. Not stopping to think, Arthur dashed to the Camelot guards shouting abuse. They should’ve known better than this. 

Sophia looked shaken when he returned. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Thanks to you.”

“They were searching for the bandits that attacked you yesterday,” Arthur explained. She listened patiently until he reached to hand her her staff. 

“Don’t touch that!”

“I’m sorry. Maybe we should go back.” If Arthur’s options were being shot at and getting into a compromising situation with a young maiden, he’d rather be back at the castle being scolded for neglecting his duties.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry, I was upset. Now, don’t let this spoil our day together. We were having such a nice time. Let’s go down to the river.” 

It was definitely time to go back.

“Your father would never forgive me if I let anything to happen to you,” he said and took Sophia back to the horses.

* * *

“Sorry. Lady Morgana, isn’t it? I’m Sophia.”

“What are you doing here?”

The girl pretended innocence when she reiterated what Merlin had already told Morgana.

“My father and I are guests of the King.”

“You’re lying. I know what you’re going to do to him and I won’t let it happen.” Morgana took a deep breath. It had been a mistake to let Sophia know she was suspected. A stupid, childish mistake. 

“Does Arthur know you feel this way about him?”

Morgana realised just how worried she was when not even the allusion of jealousy could dent her focus.

“If anything happens to Arthur, I’ll find you. However long it takes.”

Morgana had to warn Arthur.

* * *

She found him in his chambers disarming himself. Morgana stood by a chair and watched him for a moment.

“You seem very fond of her.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” Arthur was ignoring her.

“Not necessarily. I’ve just never seen you fall under a woman’s spell so quickly.”

“If you’re jealous, Morgana, it’s okay to admit it.” Arthur sounded gleeful. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Morgana wasn’t in the mood to play this game with him, not tonight. 

“Come on. It wouldn’t be the first time now, would it?” Arthur did have a point but it was something Morgana could have thrown right back at him. They both had lost enough loved ones to be jealous of anyone who threatened to break them apart further.

“Arthur, I’m trying to protect you. She isn’t what she seems.” 

“Why? What makes you say that?”

“I just have a feeling.” Morgana hated this. She hated being honest. Lying in the court came so much more naturally to her. It didn’t help that she and Arthur had got into this habit of never saying exactly what they meant. It was why he’d refused to say goodbye when he thought he was walking into a certain death on the tournament arena, and it was why Morgana never let Arthur know the true toll of her nightmares. Maybe talking to his back would help. “It’s difficult to describe. I had a dream, a nightmare.”

Arthur let out an unnaturally high-pitched laugh. “You really are very sweet, Morgana.”

“Why are you laughing?

“You, your feelings, bad dreams. You don’t have to make this stuff up. You can tell me the truth. It’s obvious you like me.” The obnoxious thug knew just what to say to make Morgana regret her wish to help. 

“Less and less by the second.” Morgana stared Arthur down as he sat down and reached for a drink.

“All right. Whatever you say.” Arthur hid behind his cup and watched Morgana’s eyes glow with anger.

“You’re intolerable. Just hope I’m wrong about her.”

As Arthur watched his foster sister storm out of the room, he realised Merlin wasn’t the only one who needed to work on his distraction talents. It had been easier to pretend there was nothing to hide when Morgana herself didn’t believe in her dreams.

Arthur tried not to think how he might end up protecting not one but two sorcerers from his father.

* * *

The thought kept Arthur awake for most of the night and woke him up early. It was either that or Merlin was late.

“You’re dressed,” was the first thing the boy said.

“Nothing gets past you, does it, Merlin?”

Yes, Arthur knew there was going to be a knighthood ceremony for one of his men—another useless son of a nobleman—and no, he wasn’t going. But Merlin reminded him anyway. 

“Won’t the King mind?”

“Not if you cover for me again. By the way thanks for yesterday. I heard you ended up in the stocks. Bad luck.” Arthur should have felt guiltier about it than he did. Mostly he was just sorry he’d missed the sight. 

“They were throwing potatoes at me. It’s only supposed to be rotten fruit.”

“I’m not sure there’s any hard-and-fast rules but if it’s any consolation, I think it was worth it.” Apart from learning nothing of Sophia’s family secrets that was. Then why did Arthur think the stolen morning had been worth Merlin ending up in the stocks? 

“What? It went well?” Merlin looked way too eager to hear the news. 

“Great. Fantastic. She’s incredible.” Why did Arthur say that? 

“Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to get you out of it.” Out of what? Oh, the ceremony. Great. Brilliant. Why again? It wasn’t important, what was important was:

“Just make sure you don’t end up in the stocks this time.”

“I won’t,” Merlin said. “I think I’m starting to get the hang of this whole deception lark.” 

Arthur escaped the room before he burst out laughing in the boy’s face.

* * *

They were in the woods again. Running. Arthur was trying to keep up with Sophia and make sure she didn’t get hurt. “Wait! Be careful!”

She stopped and turned to face him. “Don’t worry. I will be.”

Sophia said something Arthur couldn’t understand. 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Sophia opened her mouth and—

* * *

Watching Arthur make a fool out of himself for the girl wasn’t nearly as much fun as it should have been. Morgana was glad that Uther could see the ridiculous in it, but for Morgana it was painful. 

It wasn’t because Arthur declared his love so openly—he had done it before and would do it again—but because there was sincerity in his voice. Usually Arthur reserved that particular combination for—well, Morgana couldn’t think of a single occasion. 

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t Arthur. 

He was acting too serious for something so hurried and ill-conceived.

Uther made Arthur bend and back down, but Morgana feared it wouldn’t be the end of the matter. That’s why she had followed the King when he left the council chambers. 

“You’re not planning on springing any surprises on me, are you?” Uther asked. 

“Don’t you think you should be taking this a bit more seriously?” Morgana rushed after him.

“He’s young, foolish, and in love. Give it a week and he’ll be chasing after the next girl that catches his eye.”

_Uther, that’s you, not Arthur,_ Morgana wanted to say, but bit her tongue and went with a safer retort. “Sophia will never let that happen.”

Uther refused to take her seriously and pried into her secondary motives.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she said.

“Try.” Uther said and stopped walking. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Although she had challenged him in the past and made his life a living hell at times, Uther was like a second father to Morgana and she wanted to be able to trust him. Yet, her head ruled over her heart in this and she chose her words of warning carefully. She chose a lie.

“I’ve just seen girls like this before. They string men along and then drop them. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“I know you want to protect him, but some lessons we have to learn for ourselves.” That was ironic. It wasn’t that long ago Morgana had been saying the exact same thing to him, but Uther hadn’t listened. “He’ll hurt for a week and then Sophia will be forgotten.”

“I hope so.”

* * *

“Who are you to tell me what I’m thinking?” Arthur found himself shouting at Merlin. 

“I’m your friend.”

“No, Merlin, you’re my servant.” Something was wrong. Something hurt.

“You don’t know what you’re doing. She’s cast a spell on you. You’re enchanted.” 

A spell? Arthur knew that word was important and he knew it meant more coming from Merlin, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. Then Sophia came in and it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

“Don’t listen to her, she’s controlling you.”

“We can elope together. Get away from this place, these people.” Elope? Yes, elope. Arthur was in love and he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him from— From what?

It was all so confusing. Raised voices all around him made Arthur feel dizzy. 

_You have to believe me._

_Don’t listen to him, Arthur._

He was being pulled in two different directions.

“If you go with her you’ll die.” Merlin sounded so convinced.

“It—it doesn’t make sense.” Arthur shook his head. “We’re—we’re in love.”

_Look._

_Look!_

_Arthur._

One of the strings pulling at him, the stronger one, snapped and was gone.

* * *

Morgana couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t even bothered taking Gaius’ sleeping potion that night. She was too anxious to sleep. If Uther wasn’t going to do anything then she must be the one to make sure Arthur was safe. 

Staring out into the dark should’ve helped to clear her thoughts but it only added to her worries. 

Gaius. Morgana needed Gaius.

Morgana ran.

* * *

“He’s gone. Arthur’s gone with her. She’s taken him.” 

“Slow down.” Gaius was preparing to calm the hysteric when Morgana jumped ahead of him.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I’m _so sure_ it’s going to happen. My dream’s going to come true.”

“I do believe you.” Hearing Gaius say that helped. It helped her to make up her mind.

“I’ve got to tell Uther.”

“You can’t.” Why was he bringing everything crashing down again? 

“I’ve got to do something.” Morgana argued. “If I don’t then Arthur will die.”

“You can’t tell Uther about your dream. If Uther thinks you’ve got Seer’s power, he’ll charge you with witchcraft.” 

So there was a name for it, a name for what Morgana was. Seer. She was damned if she’d let a label like that stop her from saving Arthur’s life.

“I don’t have a choice. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I’d let him die.”

“Wait. We’ve known each other a long time. You trust me, don’t you?” Gaius asked.

“Yes.” It wasn’t as an unreserved answer as it would have been a few days ago. “You know I do.”

“Then trust me now. Stay here and don’t say a word to anyone about this.”

“But Arthur—“

“I’ll take care of it.” Gaius didn’t give her a chance to object.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To find someone who can help.”

Who? Who could Gaius trust to bring Arthur back? In whom could he confide how he’d found out about the danger?

* * *

His head hurt.

“Arthur?”

“What happened? Where am I?”

“Can you remember anything?” Merlin was talking curiously softly. Arthur forced his head above the pillows and groaned. This really was the worst headache he’d ever had.

“There was a girl. Sophia.” It was all coming back to him now. The strange girl and her father. The secrets he’d wanted to uncover. “I asked my father something about her. I asked him—” To marry her? “What was I thinking?!”

“Well, we did wonder. Especially when you eloped with her last night,” Merlin said with an air of smugness about him.

“I did what?”

Elope? Merlin had tried to stop him. Arthur remembered Merlin’s face when he’d tried to reason with him and had said something about a spell. Arthur felt like an idiot. Of course it had been a spell. He’d never marry such a girl let alone elope. Maybe it was better to pretend it had never happened. As much for his own sake as for Merlin’s secret.

“I don’t recall any of this.”

“Must have been some blow.” What was Gaius talking about?

“What blow?”

“Well, er, when I caught up with you, I couldn’t persuade you to return; you were beyond reason. So I had to make you.”

Merlin really had to learn to lie better. Arthur didn’t believe a word he said. “You managed to knock me out?”

“Yep. With a lump of wood.” There definitely hadn’t been any wood involved. Arthur’s landing had been too soft—like crashing through waves on a summer swim. Oh, gods. He’d nearly drowned. Merlin must have pulled him out of the lake—lake?—in time. But what had happened to Aulfric and Sophia. Arthur wasn’t at all sure he wanted to know. 

Of course he wanted to know, but there’d be time for that later. Right now he had to go and appease his father for shirking his morning duties. Three days in a row. Gods, Merlin had been in the stocks for him. 

And Arthur had denied Merlin’s offer of friendship. 

“No one,” Arthur held out his finger and pointed at both Merlin and Gaius in their turn, “can know about this. Any of it. Is that understood?” 

If truth could wait, so could Arthur’s apology.

* * *

“After Sophia left, I wanted to take my mind off her, so I went for a hunt,” Arthur explained to his father and the court.

“And killing things mends a broken heart?” Morgana asked. 

“No, but it’s good fun. Merlin was meant to inform you that I wouldn’t be back till later today.”

Merlin. He cared for Arthur, more than any other servant ever had. Both Gaius and Arthur trusted him. Merlin. It had been Merlin. 

Morgana looked at the boy. 

He’d been there when the Afanc had attacked and he’d confessed to sorcery when Gwen had been charged with sorcery. Morgana had thought it’d been done for love, but maybe there was more to it. After all the boy had saved Arthur’s life before: once from the witch’s blade and once from the poisoned cup. 

Merlin knew about magic. And if Gaius trusted him, he knew about Morgana’s dreams. 

“Well, I hope for our sake you find a cure,” Uther said, “or we’ll find ourselves with a food shortage on our hands.” 

Morgana hid her smile behind her hand.

* * *

“Are you all right? They didn’t throw anything too hard at you, did they?” Morgana asked when Merlin tried to sneak past her on his way back from the stocks. 

“No, nothing too painful,” Merlin replied leaning against the wall on the other side of the corridor. 

“Here.” Morgana nodded at the bucket full of water on the bench by her side. “Clean yourself up.”

Merlin smiled and plunged his head right into the water. Morgana yelped and jumped aside. 

“You little—“

“I’m sorry, My Lady.” Merlin’s shoulders were shaking. 

Morgana paused. “Don’t be.”

“What?”

“I should thank you, for saving Arthur’s life.”

“Umm. What do you mean?”

“Arthur told me. I saw him leave with Sophia and Aulfric last night, so he had to tell me something. He told me how you pulled him out of the water and brought him back to Camelot.” Morgana reached to pick a rather large piece of a radish leaf from Merlin’s hair.

“He couldn’t have. That’s not what we—“

“That’s not what you told him, but that is what happened, isn’t it?”

Merlin stared into the bucket. 

“It’s okay, Merlin. You can trust me. You don’t have to tell me what happened to Aulfric and Sophia, but please tell me if I’m right.”

Merlin nodded. “He’d been in the water quite a while before I got to him.”

“Thank you, Merlin. That’s all I needed.” Morgana looked up at the tall boy now standing straight and dripping wet in front of her. “And thank you for saving Arthur’s life.” 

“You like him.”

“So do you.”

“I won’t tell him if you won’t.” 

Morgana laughed. “That’s a deal.”

* * *

“Morgana,” Gaius said as she entered the physicians room.

“I’ve had some troubled nights.” It had been too long since she’d asked anything from Gaius. He was becoming suspicious. 

Merlin was eating by the table, not saying a word. They hadn’t spoken since that day he’d last been in the stocks.

“Have the dreams stopped?” Gaius asked. 

Morgana shook her head. “Arthur told me what actually happened. You must’ve hit him round the head really hard.” She kept her smile small.

“Yeah. I feel really bad about that.”

“Here you are.” Gaius gave her the draught. “Remember, every night just before you go to sleep.”

“Thank you, Gaius,” Morgana said and left the room. She just wasn’t quick enough to escape Gauis’ last words to Merlin.

_She must never find out the truth._

* * *

That night, Morgana returned to her room. She poured away the sleeping potion and she dreamed.


End file.
